


tonight we are the only ones who feel it

by theglitterati



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward First Times, Developing Relationship, Lots and lots of smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: Otabek invites Yuri to spend a weekend in Almaty with him. Yuri is determined to prove he's not just some inexperienced kid.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 17
Kudos: 146
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	tonight we are the only ones who feel it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary of Support (Nary)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



> Title from "Heaven Here" by Dashboard Confessional.

“Oh, fuck off!” Yuri yells at himself in the mirror, as his braid falls out for the third time. Stupid fucking hair. Where’s Lilia when he needs her?

Where Lilia is is back in Petersburg, while he’s in the Almaty airport, trying to get his hair to look half-decent before he sees Otabek, who has already texted him once to ask what’s taking so long. He tries the braid once more, then gives up when it falls out again. Whatever. So he’ll have shitty, flat plane hair. Otabek won’t care, right? Even though _his_ hair will probably look perfect as always. Yuri grabs his suitcase and storms out of the bathroom.

Otabek’s hair does look perfect, as does everything else about him, when Yuri spots him silhouetted against the bright August sunlight in the Arrivals terminal. When he sees Yuri, his eyebrows raise, one corner of his mouth pulling up into his strange approximation of a smile. It tugs at Yuri’s heart; he didn’t realize just how much he had missed him until now. He gives an awkward wave as he speedwalks across the terminal to meet him.

Yuri wants to hug him, even kiss him right there in the airport, but he doesn’t think that would go over well. Instead, he just says, “Hey.”

“Taxi’s waiting,” Otabek says. He takes Yuri’s bag and heads towards the door.

Yuri’s first impression of Almaty is that it’s hot, ridiculously, unbelievably hot. The taxi doesn’t have air conditioning, and they spend the whole ride sweating, mostly in silence. Yuri thought of a million things he wanted to tell Otabek on the plane ride, but now that he’s here, he doesn’t know where to start. Also, he’s nervous. He can’t help but wonder where they stand after the last time they saw each other.

Yuri’s life now exists in two parts: time when he’s with Otabek, and time he spends waiting for the next time he’ll be with him. Since they met in Barcelona, they’ve seen each other on exactly three occasions. Once at Worlds, where Yuri lost to fucking Katsudon (don’t even get him started), but Otabek knocked JJ off both his high horse and the podium to take the bronze. Another time, earlier in the summer, at Victor and Yuuri’s wedding, and once in between, for just a few hours, when Otabek had a layover in Petersburg and Yuri took two metro lines and a bus to sit in the airport McDonald’s with him.

The last time, at the wedding, Yuri finally worked up the courage to kiss him. They left the party when the drunken stripteases started, carrying a bottle of champagne down to the beach. They listened to the gulls’ calls and watched the tide go out. Otabek kept complaining that he didn’t want to get his suit dirty, so of course Yuri tackled him, making sure the wet sand got all over his Armani. He was pissed at first, until he looked up at Yuri and his expression changed from anger to something like need, and Yuri went for it, pressing his lips to Otabek’s gently, just once, then pulling back with a question on his face. He knew he’d made the right choice when Otabek pulled him back down to kiss him again.

“You’re paying for the dry cleaning,” Otabek had said, when they got too cold and had to go inside.

Yuri snorted. “Gladly.”

And that was it. They left Hasetsu early the next morning, and there hadn’t been a chance to talk, or kiss again, without Yakov and Victor and Phichit and his camera hovering around them. Two months had passed since then, and when Otabek finally asked Yuri to come visit him for the weekend, Yuri was ready to hop in the next plane.

But now he’s here, and Otabek is dragging his suitcase up the stairs of a brutalist, Soviet apartment building. He opens a door on the third floor and lets Yuri into his apartment.

It’s a tiny studio, the whole thing the size of Yuri’s bedroom at home, with blindingly white walls. There’s a kitchenette with a range but no oven, and a bed and a TV and couch, which has extra sheets folded on it, presumably for Yuri to sleep in. He plans on doing no such thing. The walls have zero decorations, which gives the place the feeling of a dorm room, a transient place. The only spot of colour comes from a drawing in crayon stuck to the fridge.

“Is this you?” Yuri asks, looking closer. It’s a crudely-drawn figure skater in mid-jump.

Otabek nods. “My sister drew that when she was little.”

There's a name written beside the skater. “Бека?” Yuri reads aloud.

“It’s what my family calls me.” He’s beside Yuri now, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “You can call me that, too, if you like.”

“I think I like Otabek better,” Yuri says, looking up at him.

Otabek’s eyes are dark. “I like hearing you say it.”

And then they’re kissing, and it’s just like it was on the beach, except this time there’s no sand in anyone’s hair. Otabek licks at Yuri’s bottom lip until he opens his mouth, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. He kisses just like he skates: purposeful and unfaltering. He presses Yuri back against the counter and tangles a hand in his hair, and Yuri feels like he’s on fire. He bites Otabek’s lip and tugs at his shirt, trying to pull him closer.

They make it to the bed somehow, Otabek propped on his elbows above Yuri, Yuri’s hair fanned out on the pillows. Yuri slips his hands under Otabek’s shirt and Otabek lets him linger there, feeling the hard muscles of his chest. His skin is warm and dry, even though Yuri feels like he’s gotten even sweatier since leaving the cab. Otabek doesn’t seem to mind, though. He keeps kissing Yuri, and it’s less rushed now, less frantic, because for once they don’t need to be on a plane right away. They can kiss slowly and lazily until it feels as natural as breathing.

Slow is good, but it also reminds Yuri how exhausted he is. He had to get to the airport at four a.m. for his flight. His kisses become softer as his head gets heavier.

Otabek pulls back, looking down at him. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m no-o—” His protest is rendered ineffective as a yawn interrupts him.

Otabek smiles and plants a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Sleep. I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

He wants to argue, but he’s half-asleep already, and for the night he has planned, he’s going to need all his energy. He pulls Otabek down beside him, holding him by the hand as he drifts off.

***

Otabek’s not in the bed when he wakes up; he’s reading a book on the couch. Yuri rolls over sleepily and smiles at him.

“I was going to wake you up in five minutes.”

“Mmm,” Yuri murmurs. “What time is it?”

“Six. I thought you might like to shower, and then we can go to dinner.”

“Okay.” Yuri rolls onto his back again, looking at the ceiling. He’s not quite ready to move — he just woke up, in Otabek’s bed, because they were _making out in it_ , and he wants to savour the moment.

He eventually gets up and grabs some clothes from his suitcase. He wants to kiss Otabek as he passes him, but his mouth feels gross. He grabs his toothbrush, too. In the bathroom, he finds a shower stall with no tub, and feels strangely bad for Otabek. He doesn’t know how he’d live without the antique clawfoot at Lilia’s. He slides into the shower — really, how does Otabek even use this thing, Yuri’s tiny and his shoulders are banging against the walls — and soaps up.

He’s wide awake in a matter of seconds. His own fingers in his hair as he washes it remind him of how Otabek’s felt a few hours ago. He can’t help thinking about how they’ll be spending the evening. Kissing Otabek is great, it’s fucking amazing, but he didn’t fly all the way to Kazakhstan for a kiss. Unconsciously, his hand slides down to circle his cock, and he’s imagining that it’s Otabek’s instead, and Jesus, he’s right on the other side of the wall, not even ten feet away—

There’s a bang on the door. “What do you want for dinner?” Otabek yells over the noise of the shower. Less than ten feet away, then. Yuri hastily removes his hand, on the off-chance that Otabek has X-ray vision.

“Whatever you think is good,” he yells back. Then he turns the water to cold and blasts himself in the face with it. He’s got to make it through dinner without jumping Otabek across the table.

At least his hair looks good, now, once he’s dried it on a fluffy, white towel. He dresses in skinny jeans and colourful sneakers and a t-shirt with a wolf’s face on it that he hopes Otabek thinks is cool. Otabek has changed, too, but just into a different black t-shirt than the one he was wearing before. Yuri still appreciates the effort, and now that his teeth are clean, he can show it. He crosses the room and pulls Otabek into a kiss.

“Dinner,” Otabek reminds him, after a few minutes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Yuri had prepared himself mentally to try whatever traditional Kazakh food Otabek wanted to introduce him to, but Otabek must remember that he has the palette of a five-year-old, because he takes him to a hip burger place full of college kids instead. Yuri finds he’s starving, and eats his whole burger, plus some of Otabek’s. Afterwards, they do get a traditional dessert: baursaki, mounds of fried dough that Lilia would kill Yuri for eating one of, let alone four.

After dinner, Otabek drives them up into the hills around the city on his bike, stopping at a lookout from which they can see all of Almaty. There’s a few families hanging around, so they keep their distance, but Otabek settles a hand on the small of Yuri’s back, rubbing circles through his shirt. On the drive back, there’s finally an excuse for Yuri to hold him, and if his hands roam more than usual as they speed through the streets, no one would know the difference.

“That was a good dinner—” Yuri says as they enter the apartment, but Otabek is on him right away, corralling him against the door and pressing his mouth to Yuri’s.

There’s nothing soft about it this time. Otabek kisses him like they’re about to go off to war, and Yuri’s aroused in seconds, eagerly slipping his tongue into Otabek’s mouth. Otabek grabs him, not gently, by the arm and drags him to the bed, and they fall onto it side by side. Otabek yanks one of Yuri’s legs up over his hip and slides a hand down over the curve of his ass. He squeezes, and Yuri lets out a very undignified sigh. Otabek chases the sound, pushing his mouth against Yuri’s.

They lose their shirts quickly and close the distance between them, Yuri’s pale skin against Otabek’s golden tan. Yuri shivers when their hips slot together, first by accident, then on purpose, as Otabek pulls him closer. He’s hard as a rock in his tight jeans, but Otabek is, too, and god, Yuri thinks he might pass out from the heat that pulses through him. He rolls his hips against Otabek’s once, testing, as is pleased when Otabek mutters _“Fuck,”_ in a low voice and digs his fingers into Yuri’s thigh.

He’s never done anything like this before, not just with Otabek, but with anyone. This is officially the farthest he’s gone, and now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to stop. Or give Otabek a reason to stop. He knows Otabek is more experienced than him, knows he’s had actual, real sex, with at least one girl, just before Worlds.

(“Who’s Vika?” he asked. Otabek was stretching across the room, but his phone was next to Yuri, and it was going off like a firecracker with notifications. _I can’t want to see you when you come back,_ the latest one read. “Your girlfriend or something?”

“Or something,” Otabek said.

Another text: _I hope you can stay over again, too ;)_

“You banging her?” Yuri asked.

Otabek made a face. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes. Why, you want the dirty details?” he teased.

“Fuck no.” He threw the phone back in Otabek’s bag. He felt a little nauseous, though he didn’t yet understand why.)

When Otabek had asked him point-blank in the Petersburg airport if he had done capital-I It yet, Yuri might have embellished a little. Or maybe even a lot, with made-up stories of a girl from the rink at home and a guy he met once in Paris. He just didn’t want Otabek to think he was some stupid kid who didn’t know what he was doing, even though it was true. The lie had felt meaningless at the time. Now, it hangs over his head as he rolls on top of Otabek, straddling his hips and grinding against them.

But Otabek’s looking up at him like he hangs the goddamn stars, and maybe he can do this. He’s Yuri Fucking Plisetsky. He won the Grand Prix his first year in Seniors — what the fuck does he need experience for?

As good as the rhythm they’ve perfected with their hips feels, Yuri doesn’t want to wait anymore. He tugs at Otabek’s belt, then the zipper beneath it, then pulls his jeans and underwear down. Otabek looks a little dazed beneath him as he raises his hips to help him. Yuri might have teased him more, but he’s too impatient.

He has to pause, though, when he sees Otabek’s cock for the first time. It’s a hell of a sight, bigger than his own, and darker, too, both because of the colour of his skin and the short, black curls at the base of it. Yuri takes it in his hand and strokes it, the same way he does his own, and that seems to work, because Otabek is squirming below him, softly repeating his name.

After a minute of this, because Yuri does absolutely nothing halfway, he’s sliding down the bed to put his head between Otabek’s legs.

Otabek stops him with a hand in his hair right before his mouth touches the tip of his cock, and Yuri thinks he might scream. “Are you sure you want to?” Otabek asks. Yuri just rolls his eyes and goes down, opening his mouth the way he’s seen in videos and taking Otabek inside.

It’s not like he thought it would be. There’s the taste, for one; it’s not awful, but it’s not totally pleasant, either. The tip of Otabek’s cock was already wet, and it’s bitter on Yuri’s tongue. But the main problem is the size. There’s just too much of it. Yuri pushes his mouth as far down as he can, but it only goes in halfway. What the fuck? That never happens in porn. As if that’s not enough, Otabek’s cock is thick, too. Yuri’s jaw is already aching from keeping his mouth around it.

Otabek’s not moaning or squirming above him anymore, and he just knows he’s fucking the whole thing up. There doesn’t seem to be any more room in his mouth, so he’ll just have to make some. He presses down harder, letting Otabek’s cock push into his throat. He has to fight not to gag, but Otabek’s making noise again, actually panting, so this must be okay. Yuri bobs up and down a few times as best as he can, and then Otabek shudders beneath him, and there’s liquid in this throat, and this time he really does gag. He jerks back, hard, coughing and sputtering. Cum drips from his lips, which makes him gag again. There are tears in his eyes from being hit so hard in the throat, and also maybe from something else. 

“Yuri? Yuri, what’s wrong?” Otabek asks.

Yuri ignores him and runs for the bathroom. He’s going to feel humiliated any second now, but that’s only if he manages not to puke. He gets to the sink and spits repeatedly, coughing to get what he can out of his throat. He cups his hand under the tap and drinks, trying to wash the bitterness away. His throat feels raw, like he’s sick, and when he looks in the mirror he’s a mess, hair pasted to his forehead with sweat. He’s also still fucking crying apparently, so he splashes water on his face.

The humiliation sets in. He remembers Otabek in the other room. He must think he’s insane.

When he leaves the bathroom, Otabek is fully clothed, sitting upright on the bed. His lips are drawn in a tight line. 

He points to the bed next to him. “Sit,” he orders. Yuri obeys, and Otabek tosses him his t-shirt. He puts it on, staying turned away from Otabek as best he can. 

“You hadn’t done that before,” Otabek says. It’s not a question.

“No.”

“So the things you told me you did with other people?”

“I was lying.” He finally looks at Otabek. His eyes are hard, and black as night. 

“Why?”

“To fucking impress you, okay?” The tears are still coming. “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t do it or something.”

Otabek is quiet for a long time. “Yuri,” he finally says. “I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”

“I shouldn’t have lied,” Yuri says, “but you have girls texting you asking for sex at Worlds, and there’s always girls, guys, everyone commenting on your Instagram pictures begging you to fuck them—”

Otabek barks out a short laugh. “I don’t even read the comments on my Instagram.”

“Whatever. I know you’ve had sex with all these people, and it’s fucking intimidating, okay?”

“All these people? Yuri, I’ve had sex with three people. And I didn’t want to have sex with any of them as much as I want to with you.”

Yuri’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yes. But you can’t lie to me. It’s not fair to me, or to you. I could have hurt you.” He looks at Yuri, his face softening. “I did hurt you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yuri says. 

Otabek just shrugs. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. It hurt a little, but I’m okay now. It was just kind of gross. Not you, just—”

“It’s okay,” Otabek says. He takes Yuri’s hand. “I can’t enjoy it if I’m hurting you. So… no more lying to me, okay?”

“I won’t. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Otabek says, and that’s just one of the many things Yuri likes about him: he never holds a grudge. “I’m tired. Do you want to go to sleep now?”

Yuri looks over at the pile of sheets. “Do I have to sleep on the couch?”

A ghost of a smile passes over Otabek’s lips. “No.”

***

Yuri wakes up to bright sunlight shining in his face. There’s something about the way the light hits the window, whether in the morning or when the sun is setting, that makes the apartment feel like a little universe all of its own. Yuri’s glad to share this universe with Otabek, who is just waking up beside him.

He turns on his side to face Yuri, sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” Yuri says, his voice almost a sigh. He can’t help it — Otabek’s hair is sticking out every which way, and it’s adorable.

“How did you sleep?”

Truthfully, even at night the apartment was hot, and he tossed and turned for most of it. But waking up in the middle of the night and finding Otabek beside him, in just a pair of basketball shorts, one arm thrown casually over Yuri’s chest, was worth it. “Good,” he says.

“You snore,” Otabek teases him.

“No I don’t!” Yuri exclaims, even though everyone who has ever shared a room with him has said the same thing.

“Yes, you do.”

“Yeah, well, shut—” Otabek shuts him up with a kiss.

Yuri worries again about his breath, but Otabek doesn’t seem to mind, so neither does he. They kiss languidly, softly. At some point, Yuri looks at the clock, and is surprised to find it’s only nine a.m. They have the whole day to spend together; it feels like a gift.

Otabek rolls on top of him, breaking their kiss to trail fingertips across Yuri’s cheekbones and through his hair. His gaze is almost too much, too reverent, and Yuri ducks his chin, suddenly shy. Otabek pushes it back up and bites his bottom lip, and Yuri cries out, shyness be damned.

Then he’s tugging Yuri’s t-shirt off and sliding down his body, pressing kisses to his chest, arms, stomach. He passes his tongue across Yuri’s nipple and Yuri lets out a noise that sounds something like “hhngh!” He feels fingers slipping below his waistband, and then Otabek’s looking up at him, asking, “Can I?”

“Yes,” Yuri breathes.

Otabek kicks the blankets off and moves down the bed, taking Yuri’s underwear with him. His cock is ridiculously hard and still smaller than Otabek’s, and he feels both embarrassed and jealous for a minute until Otabek puts his mouth on him and Yuri’s brain jumps right out the window.

“Holy fucking fuck,” he mutters, because nothing, not landing a quad, not winning a gold medal, has ever felt this good.

Otabek takes him in his mouth, sucking at the tip of his cock and working the rest with his hand, and _wow_ , Yuri thinks, so that’s how you do it. Much better than trying to ram the whole fucking thing down your throat. It feels great, too; Otabek coats his cock with saliva until he can barely tell where his mouth ends and his hand begins.

Otabek swirls his tongue around him, and Yuri can’t help it: he thrusts upward hard into Otabek’s mouth. Luckily, strong hands are there to hold him still. He sees now how easy it is to hurt someone, and runs his hands through Otabek’s hair as an apology. It makes Otabek hum around his cock, so he keeps them there.

Soon, too soon, because he wants this to go on forever, Yuri’s coming. Otabek pulls off of him and strokes him through it, Yuri calling out his name over and over until he finishes and goes slack against the mattress. Otabek lies down next to him, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to clean them both up. Yuri is still catching his breath, but he manages to say thank you when Otabek wipes his stomach clean.

“I’m sorry I pulled off,” Otabek says. “I don’t really like the taste.”

“It’s okay.” Yuri notes that that’s allowed for next time; he’d rather not get cum stuck in his throat again. “It felt fucking amazing.”

Otabek actually has the nerve to look bashful. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes.” Yuri kisses him, not caring at all where his mouth has been. “I wish I had known about the using-your-hand thing.”

Otabek laughs. “You always do everything the hard way.”

Yuri surprises him by jumping on top of him, sliding a hand down his shorts. “Lucky for you, I learn fast.”

***

They take a walk around the neighbourhood after lunch, but as nice as Almaty is, and as excited as Otabek is to show it to him, Yuri isn’t interested in sight-seeing. He wants to be inside, somewhere he can touch and taste Otabek as much as he wants. They end up spending the afternoon on the couch, Otabek’s arm slung casually around Yuri’s shoulders.

Yuri asks Otabek about the other people he’s been with and learns it was two girls and a guy, all of whom he was physically attracted to, but just didn’t fit with romantically. Figure skating is a demanding sport, and despite looking _like that_ , Otabek is shy, and serious, and has a thing for people as determined and unyielding as he is, which doesn’t make him boyfriend-material for just anyone.

It does for Yuri, though. He’s never felt like this before, so absorbed with another person, and it’s almost frightening how badly he wants him. Otabek feels like an addiction, and Yuri knows he’ll be in withdrawal the second he gets on the plane tomorrow.

“What about you?” Otabek asks. “I know you haven’t had sex, but…”

“I’ve kissed people,” Yuri says quickly. “Mila and I made out a couple times. She let me touch her boobs through her shirt. It was hot but also kind of awkward. I think she’s lonely.

“And, after Worlds this year, we had a party at the rink, and I got really drunk, like Katsudon at the banquet. Mila dared me to sneak up and kiss Georgi and I did it.”

Otabek’s eyes bug out. _“Georgi?!”_

“Yeah. It was just a little peck, but it was fucking gross. He was wearing lipstick.” Yuri sticks out his tongue at the memory.

Otabek just shakes his head. “Georgi,” he repeated. “He’s… old.”

“Dа. Mila was laughing her head off, and then he got pissed at me because Anya was there and he thought it would make her upset for some reason. He is so fucking weird.”

“That is an understatement,” Otabek says solemnly.

***

Except for meals and a little conversation, they can’t keep themselves off each other for very long. It’s when they fall back into bed for the third time that Yuri asks for what he wants.

“You said you want to have sex with me,” he says.

“I do.”

“So let’s do it. I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.”

“That’s not a good reason to rush things,” Otabek says, annoyingly sensible.

“It’s an okay reason,” Yuri protests, “and I’m mostly asking ‘cause I’m fucking horny and want to do it with you.”

Otabek shuts his eyes. “Promise me you’ll tell me if I do something that hurts you?”

Yuri nods. “Okay.”

“Then, okay.”

They get fully naked together for the first time, pressing their bodies against each other as if eliminating any distance between them now will make it easier to part tomorrow. Their cocks touch between them, and Yuri reaches down to take both of them in his hand, marvelling at how it makes Otabek’s head fall back, the delicate arch of his neck just as lovely here as on the ice. Then Otabek leans halfway off the bed to grab something underneath. He comes back up with lube and a box of condoms. 

Otabek clears his throat. “How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. He kind of thought Otabek would know.

“Do you want to… um… ah. I’m nervous.” It sounds so un-Otabek-like that Yuri almost laughs. 

“Did you think about us doing this?” Otabek tries again.

“Yeah. Don’t fucking smirk at me! You thought about it, too.”

“Yes, I did.” He clears his throat again. “So, did you think about me penetrating you, or… the other way around?”

 _“Oh.”_ Duh. “I thought about you fucking me.”

“Okay. Me too. It doesn’t always have to be that way, but for this time—”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Otabek grabs the lube and drips some onto his fingers. He lifts one of Yuri’s legs over his shoulder. “Have you done this to yourself before?” Yuri nods. “Okay.” He tugs on Yuri’s cock a few times, then slides his hand down farther, to press against his entrance.

Yuri jerks back. “Ah!”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, just cold.”

“Oh.” Otabek rubs his fingers together and tries again.

He slides in easily this time. Yuri groans; Otabek’s fingers are thicker than his own, in the best possible way. “More,” he demands. He demands it again a few minutes later, when Otabek has him breathless from the two fingers inside him and his other hand on his cock.

“You’re sure?” Otabek asks, looking serious as always.

“Fucking yes,” Yuri whines. “Just fuck me already.” Otabek laughs, the sweetest sound in the world.

He removes his fingers and slips on a condom, covering it with more lube for good measure, then positions himself over Yuri. Then he presses inside him, going excruciatingly slow, and Yuri appreciates it, because wow, this is not at all the same as fingers. Otabek’s cock is big, bigger than he even realized when it was in his mouth, and it fills him up quickly. Yuri’s eyes roll back in pleasure, because even though it’s a lot to take, Otabek, _his_ Otabek, is inside him.

“Does it hurt?” Otabek asks when he’s as far in as he can go. Yuri tests it out, wiggling as much as he can from side to side, which makes Otabek’s eyes fall shut.

“A little,” Yuri said. There’s a stretch there, definitely. “But mostly it feels good.”

Otabek starts moving then, and it’s like nothing else. It’s the slow push and pull of his hips, the satisfaction when he fills Yuri up and the anticipation when he pulls back. But it’s also just having the privilege to see Otabek like this, more wild than he’s ever seen him, making all kinds of facial expressions and kissing Yuri desperately.

Then he says Yuri’s name very seriously, and Yuri expects the worst. He’s going to tell him he’s doing it wrong, even though Yuri can't find anything remotely bad about it. But instead, he says, “You are so beautiful,” and Yuri thinks his heart might explode.

Neither of them can keep it up for long. Otabek speeds up as he gets close, pumping Yuri’s cock in time with his thrusts, and they both come, Yuri wailing loudly and Otabek shuddering above him. They stay like that, panting, until Otabek drops a kiss on Yuri’s lips and then moves to clean them up, just like he did in the morning.

“So was it good?” Otabek asks when he’s done.

“Yeah, best sex I ever had,” Yuri jokes.

“Me too,” Otabek says, and suddenly Yuri feels bad for joking.

“Seriously, it was… really good. We should do it again.”

“I’m a little tired,” Otabek says.

Yuri laughs. “Not now. But sometime.”

“Sometime,” Otabek agrees. He’s already drifting off, his eyes closing.

Yuri curls towards him. “Otabek?”

“Mmm?”

“I think you are beautiful, too.”

***

Morning comes too soon. Yuri’s flight is at one p.m., so there’s barely time to do anything. Otabek makes them porridge for breakfast, they manage to cram themselves both into the tiny shower to jerk each other off one last time, and then they’re leaving the apartment, calling another cab.

They’re quiet in the taxi again, and Yuri can’t help but worry. Yesterday was literally the best day of his entire life; what if that’s it? What if he doesn’t see Otabek for months? What if Otabek loses interest? What if he finds someone else?

“Yuri,” Otabek says. “We’re here.”

They walk into the terminal together. Yuri’s gate is already being displayed. There’s no fucking time, and Yuri feels tears in his eyes again, and he wishes it was just from choking on Otabek’s dick this time, because at least that would mean they were together.

Otabek wipes a tear from his cheek. “Yura,” he says, a nickname Yuri’s never once heard him use before, “please don’t cry.”

“Sorry.” He rubs his eyes hard with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“I was thinking,” Otabek says, “except for the airport, I’ve never seen St. Petersburg.”

“It’s fucking boring,” Yuri says automatically. Everywhere is boring without him.

“Maybe. But maybe it’s not the city I want to see.”

Yuri looks up. “It’s not?”

Otabek shrugs. “The Grand Prix starts in two months. I don’t want to wait that long to see you again.”

The relief of hearing him say it sets Yuri off crying even harder than before. “Okay.”

Otabek pulls him in for a tight hug. “Let me know when you get home.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Call me instead.” He pulls back, then tucks a stray strand of hair behind Yuri’s ear.

“Bye, Otabek,” Yuri says, and then he hurries towards security before he can do any more crying. But when he turns around, Otabek is still exactly where he left him, watching him go, and a grin breaks across Yuri’s face.


End file.
